t ye yer bit fut
upo' my table, an' we'll think the mair o' 't efter whan we tak oor
denner aff o' 't."

Florimel thanked her, stepped lightly upon it, and sprang to the sand,
where she was received with words of welcome from many, and shouts which
rendered them inaudible from the rest. The men, their bonnets in their
hands, and the women curtseying, made a lane for her to pass through,
while the young fellows would gladly have begged leave to carry her
could they have extemporized any suitable sort of palanquin or triumphal
litter.

Followed by Malcolm, she led the way over the Boar's Tail--nor would
accept any help in climbing it--straight for the tunnel: Malcolm had
never laid aside the key his father had given him to the private doors
while he was yet a servant. They crossed by the embrasure of the brass
swivel. That implement had now long been silent, but they had not gone
many paces from the bottom of the dune when it went off with a roar. The
shouts of the people drowned the startled cry with which Florimel
turned to Malcolm, involuntarily mindful of old and for her better
times. She had not looked for such a reception, and was both flattered
and touched by it. For a brief space the spirit of her girlhood came
back. Possibly, had she then understood that hope rather than faith or
love was at the heart of their enthusiasm, that her tenants looked upon
her as their savior from the factor, and sorely needed the exercise of
her sovereignty, she might have better understood her position and her
duty toward them.

Malcolm unlocked the door of the tunnel, and she entered, followed by
Rose, who felt as if she were walking in a dream. But as he stepped in
after them he was seized from behind and clasped close in an embrace he
knew at once. "Daddy, daddy!" he said, and turning threw his arms round
the piper.

"My poy! my poy! her nain son Malcolm!" said the old man in a whisper of
intense satisfaction and suppression. "You'll must pe forgifing her for
coming pack to you. She cannot help lofing you, and you must forget tat
you are a Cam'ell."

Malcolm kissed his cheek, and said, also in a whisper, "My ain daddy! I
hae a heap to tell ye, but I maun see my leddy hame first."

"Co, co, this moment co!" cried the old man, pushing him away. "To your
tuties to my leddyship first, and then come to her old daddy."

"I'll be wi' ye in half an hoor or less."

"Coot poy! coot poy! Come to Mistress Partan's."

"Ay, ay, dadd